


Waking Up

by dogmatix, norcumi



Series: Nightsisters [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, GFY, Genderbending, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 06:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6145166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogmatix/pseuds/dogmatix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plagued by recurring nightmares, a Dathomir Nightsister named Ani decides to face her past, and in doing so, may just find her future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

> Beta credit and many thanks to Alyyks, Semianonymity, and MoreCivilizedAge!
> 
> Brought to you by this chapter's theme song, ["Awake and Alive" by Skillet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9aRlxHtB0pg).

“Ani!” The plea for help was worse than the screams. It was a whisper of reason amongst horror, a moment of lucidity which meant that higher thought had somehow survived torture.

It was more than enough to send Ani bolt upright, gasping as she scanned her room with one hand raised and the Force a swirl of green power cupped within.

Then she groaned and flicked the gathered power away, burying her face in her hands. A nightmare. Terrifying and painful, it had showed Ani her mother – her birth mother, Shmi Skywalker – suffering gods knew what.

Ani shoved loose tendrils of hair back out of her face, struggling to calm her breathing. She kept her eyes down, watching the blanket instead of risking a look up. She knew it was stupid to think that she’d actually see Mom being– being tortured like that, but that didn’t change the desire to not see.

Soft footsteps and a welcome touch on her shoulder helped her confirm reality, and Ani slumped back against Feral’s palm. “The nightmare again?” her sister asked quietly, and Ani nodded.

“Third time,” she murmured back. “I need to tell Mother Vaala tomorrow. Something’s really happening.”

Feral let out a soft huff, not quite a sigh. “Premonition, or distant awareness?”

Ani scrubbed her face a few times. “Premonition, I think, but it’s getting stronger. This is going to happen soon, and I don’t know how quickly I can get to Tatooine.”

“We,” Savage rumbled from the other side of the room. Ani looked up to see her brother glaring at her from the top bunk, where Feral usually slept. Feral had either planned ahead or had had a premonition of her own. “You’re not leaving us behind.”

Ani finally started to relax a little, letting her head fall back until her braid slipped off her shoulder to lightly thump Feral on the wrist. “Tatooine sucks.”

“Then all the more reason for us to go with you, and make sure you can come home quickly,” Savage declared with the straightforward stubbornness that was the essential heart of her brother.

“Not to mention, if you think Mother will let her heir out without minders, you’re stupid as well as rash.”

Feral’s mix of pragmatism and sometimes sharp humor hit just right, letting Ani collapse against her in a fit of stressful little giggles. “Thanks.” She flopped down as Feral patted her shoulder before heading back to the bunk bed. Ani sighed. “I hope I’m wrong,” she said, even though the Force was ringing through all three of them. “Maybe it’ll be a quiet trip.”

* * *

It was the night cycle in the transport shuttle, and Ani was wandering the halls again. It didn’t help that Dathomir was on a different cycle than Core standard, which was why Feral and Savage were off looking to see if the galley was open.

Some of Ani’s agitation was that she needed time away from her sibs. She loved them both, but they’d been clinging to her sides like burrs since leaving Dathomir. There was no direct shuttle route between there and Tatooine, so they’d had to travel core-ward before catching another transport out.

Ani had forgotten how overwhelming large cities and commercial spaceports were. The pressure of millions and billions of beings, crammed together in towering buildings and sprawling complexes that were a far cry from either the Clan compound or the Nightbrother villages. It was no wonder her sibs were clinging to her. Neither of them had been gaping like the rubes that, to be fair, all three of them were, but at the same time Ani could only imagine what it would have been like if they’d had to go as far in as Coruscant itself.

Not that Ani would go there again, if she could avoid it. It didn’t matter that it was a planet city, immense and bustling, and therefore the odds of her running into anyone who had known her or Obi-Wan were slim. It held too many memories, most of them bad. The Jedi Council interrogating her, turning their backs on her. Qui-Gon’s double-edged backing, and Obi-Wan’s subsequent bitterness, which had become quiet, desperate support, after Naboo. Ani’s loneliness in the middle of a well-populated Temple, and the cold distrust of the Jedi.

No, she never wanted to return. She was just glad they’d been able to travel along the Hydian Way hyperlane and avoid Coruscant altogether, because damned to multiple cold hells before she’d go anywhere near that place. Maybe if Mother Talzin declared a life debt and animated Ani’s cold dead corpse and fucking _walked_ her there, Ani would return, but she wasn’t about to lay odds on that working very _well_.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had died there.

For that matter, the same could be said for Anakin Skywalker.

Her restlessness egged her on to a faster pace, and she stalked through the corridors as if she owned them. She desperately wanted to go home. Not Tatooine – that had _never_ been home, though Shmi had been – but Dathomir. The comfort of the clan compound, the familiar Force presences of her Sisters, Mother Vaala’s calm support and Yivrin’s prickly care. The feel of the local rancors, and the one pack that had semi-adopted Deep Mists – or perhaps just Feral; no one could quite decide which it was.

Ani suspected a lot of her restlessness was guilt. She’d abandoned her mother almost ten years ago, because the Jedi could not afford more than a single chance-won slave. In the year after that, she’d watched, and hated the limitations on family, and wondered how long she would have to work in her spare time – though where she would find that time in among all the many lessons to catch up with even the youngest padawans, she had no idea – and how much repair and maintenance she would have to do to send on the credits to buy Mom’s freedom.

She’d given up twice more after that. Once, in the darkness of a slave hold – a thought she still shied away from, and left her hiding in Savage’s oversized coat, shivering. She’d stolen it from him within the first five minutes they were away from Dathomir, and thankfully he felt her disturbance in the Force enough to not ask. For that matter, it might have been part of why he and Feral were quite so literally at her sides at all times.

Ani hated the cold of space travel. She was almost looking forward to the suns of Tatooine, except for the fact that she hadn’t forgotten what _that_ felt like.

She stopped and for a moment, braced herself against the wall. The third time she had abandoned her mother, it had been her own choice, her own decision. In that first year with the clan, Mother Vaala had sat her down and been frank with her about the clan’s resources. They hadn’t drained themselves dry to purchase Ani’s freedom, but there was no room to spare, no funds for any emergency.

Ani had been born into slavery. She well understood the pragmatic realities of money and slavery and the useless necessity of hope.

Watto was not the worst owner around. If he could keep his gambling in check, then everything would be well. If he couldn’t, then he couldn’t afford to lose the only help he had. Mom was canny, and one of the strongest survivors Ani had ever seen.

It had been months before she’d been able to sleep well with that decision on her conscience. Even if she wasn’t ‘Anakin Skywalker’ anymore, she had promised.

Gods and ancestors, she hated the nightmares more than she had language for. She had abandoned her word, her _mother_ , and like it or not, that meant whatever fate Shmi Skywalker now faced, Ani was the one responsible.

She lightly pounded a fist against the wall, glaring around. She needed to do something. Maybe some hand-to-hand sparring, or running on some kind of treadmill, _anything_. Ani stormed down the corridor, trying to recall if the lounge area or the tiny recreational area was on this side of the ship.

 _Lounge, dammit_. She glared around, wondering if there was any distraction available. She doubted it, but–

Ani blinked. She’d missed the man slumped in the corner on her first scan, though given his Force presence that was no surprise. He had that huddled sense of those who had endured trauma, a small core she couldn’t make out because he’d wrapped his pain and suffering about him like a shield, protecting his mind and self as well as any Jedi. He was poking halfheartedly at a dejarik table, not even glancing up at her.

 _Well. Better than nothing, right?_ She approached him carefully, and when he looked at her, she raised her brows and gestured at the table. He gave a partial shrug and went back to making the AI look like it came from a malfunctioning garbage droid.

She’d never actually played the game before, but as a kid on Tatooine she’d seen plenty of cantina patrons puttering around with it, and she’d had to repair a few tables in her time. She even knew some of the AI moves, because she’d liked watching some of the holo-beasties battle while she was working on other parts. As far as she could tell, the man was close to a shut-out win.

His skill seemed to be the only polished thing about him. His light-colored clothes might have started off life as a tan or maybe even a white shade, but they were well on their way to brown in a way that sonics were never quite able to get out of most materials. His greasy, brownish hair looked like he’d missed the last three scheduled appointments with a set of trimmers, and the scraggly beard wasn’t any better. What she could see of his face had long, deep lines, and he was staring down at the dejarik table like it held all the answers to the universe.

The last AI holomonster died a tragic, squeaky death, and the man punched in a fresh, two person game. He won the first game with almost as much ease as he had against the AI, but Ani felt like she was starting to get the hang of things. She’d had plenty of training on small-scale fighter tactics, and she knew just enough that she could tell she was making the man work at least a little for his second win. A few moves before her last piece would be overrun by several of his, the man looked up. There was a sudden sense of tension and anger rolling off of him like mist, making her jerk upright and glance around. There shouldn’t be anything on board a miserable, second-class passenger ship that would–

 _Oh, hells_. The anxiety and concerns she’d managed to push aside for a while came crashing back down on her shoulders. Feral and Savage were out in the hall, talking quietly to each other and apparently not seeing her. Her jaw squared a little as the man glared at her sibs, and since she was in no mood to play nice with idiotic bigots, she decided to press the issue. She stood up, raising a hand. “Brother! Sister!”

Pity. Once he’d gotten into the game, he’d seemed like quite the reasonable being, but the increasing tension radiating from the human as Ani’s sibs approached set her hackles up.

“Sister,” Feral declared cautiously when she wouldn’t be shouting across the entire area. “We wondered where you’d gotten off to.”

“Sister?” the man repeated, glancing between them. His voice was raspy, soft and accentless on the first word he’d spoken in what sounded like weeks.

“We’re from Dathomir,” Ani informed him, voice cool but not hostile.

Savage picked up on it, glancing from her to the man. “Who’s your friend?” he asked, cautious.

The man stood, shoulders back and body still tense as a wire. “No one of importance,” he snapped. “Excuse me.” There was a curl of Coruscant to his words as he stalked off, leaving Ani with an even greater unease sinking into her bones.

Feral kept a close eye on the human until he was well out the doors. “Is he going to be trouble?” she asked, quiet and with a finger tapping restlessly on her vambrace.

Ani frowned and tested the Force beyond her already tight shields, then shook her head. “Doubt it. I think he’s just an idiot.” She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the stress that was back to crawling through her shoulders. “Please tell me you found a place to spar. I desperately need to hit something right now.”

* * *

Ani didn’t know what to think as they walked away from Watto’s. On the one hand, Mom had gotten her freedom, and Watto looked like he’d gotten some comeuppance. On the other, something was still giving Ani a horrible feeling, and...

 _Mom got free on her own. Isn’t that what you’d hoped would happen?_ She bit down on her mess of emotions, glaring at her surroundings instead. Mos Espa hadn’t changed nearly enough. “We need a speeder,” she said, voice rough as she pulled the hood of Savage’s jacket up. She was still cold, still burning away inside, and she could feel the desperate itch to move, to run away from this hellhole again.

Ani haggled a blood-sucking merchant into renting them a battered, ancient speeder. Mos Espa to Anchorhead wasn’t a typical route, but she knew the tracking beacons on the damn things would reassure all but the most paranoid that they’d get their precious vehicle back.

It was only when they were finally leaving Mos Espa that Ani tossed Savage’s jacket at him. This, she remembered with at least a touch of fondness. There was something about the smell of Tatooine, the sand and scorched air blasting past the open top of the speeder that called to her, reminded her that she had come from this desert. Feral and Savage were enjoying the opportunity for something other than the constant press of strangers.

She shouldn’t have been so surprised that when the vehicle crested a sand dune, she could see the smoking hulk of a busted speeder and the dejarik player hunched in what passed for its shadow.

* * *

Obi-Wan kicked the speeder again, then slumped down against its edge, putting his head in his hands. This was one indignity too many, one more minor little disaster than he quite knew how to handle. He never enjoyed his intermittent trips to Tatooine. They were a painful exercise in futility on what he had quietly accepted was the grandest fool’s errand in the universe. There was always the slender thread of hope that Anakin would come home to his mother, would track her down even if...even if he had abandoned everything else.

Mace had spent the last few years’ worth of Obi-Wan’s com calls to the Temple trying to gently convince Obi-Wan that his padawan had to be dead, or so long lost that it was by choice, so why not respect that choice?

Obi-Wan now contacted the Temple as rarely as possible.

Every few years he swung by Tatooine, even though Shmi knew how to contact him should the need arise. The only need had been when she and his father – and hadn’t _that_ been an incredible shock and kick in the teeth! – had been married, and they’d wanted at least two of their children there, even if the last remained missing.

This sojourn was particularly...irksome. A slew of small delays meant he was weeks behind. A com broken in a bar fight meant he could check messages if he were planet-side, but not send without ruinous cost, out here on the Rim. To cap it all off, he’d had to spend a week in transit with those three Dathomiri.

The two Zabrak had set his teeth on edge, not because of their species, but because of those damned tattoos. When he’d first spotted the big male, he’d thought he was hallucinating. In the poor lighting of the transport, first and second glance meant he thought he was looking at Qui-Gon’s murderer. In better light, it was clear that this was no adult, no sly killer just waiting for the right opportunity. This was a teenager, a bit gangly-limbed with a head he had yet to quite grow into, meaning he’d end up some hulking bruiser. The female wasn’t much older, with pale hair that had just an undertone of tan that she kept swept back from her face. It was the cool, direct look – and the quietness in the Force – that meant he had every reason to suspect she was a witch.

True, not all of Dathomir’s witches were Dark, but as far as he knew it was impossible to tell one from the other unless they started cackling manically and engaging in esoteric blood rites.

Strangely, worst of all was the human woman. Something about her was...odd. There was something compelling about her, something that _pulled_ at him. It wasn’t lust, thank the Force. If nothing else, it at least wasn’t that. She was also far too young, but damned if he could figure what it was that seemed to draw him to her.

Obi-Wan had been more than happy to see the back of them – the moment the transport had landed, those three had hurried out and away from the spaceport. He’d rented the most reasonable looking speeder – which had probably been a mistake, given that this _was_ Tatooine – and he’d barely made it two kilometers from the city before the monstrosity of a vehicle had coughed, started spewing smoke, and glided to a gentle, ignominious landing he suspected it would not recover from.

He spent a little time checking what he could, but this was hardly his area of expertise. He ended up sitting in what passed for the shadow of the damned machine, not caring overmuch about the heatstroke he was courting.

It was nearing ten years. He wasn’t quite ready to admit defeat, but he had spent so much of his youth waiting, and hoping, and working diligently for goals and people that never really came through. He had no idea if he’d return to the Jedi. Perhaps he’d see if his father still wanted assistance with the farm, or perhaps nerf-herding on some obscure planet was more his style.

Giving up wasn’t really his style either, but even Obi-Wan Kenobi could listen to the Force once in a while.

The roar of a speeder engine going full throttle yanked his head up. It crested the rise, and his eyes registered what his senses in the Force had already told him. The three Dathomiri were watching him as they blasted past. The human woman was driving and pretended to ignore him, the female Zabrak gave him a cool glare, and the male looked awkward in the backseat.

The speeder slowed a bit, then drifted to a stop several dozen meters away. He thought he saw the human’s hunched shoulders heave in a sigh, then she backed up. He could see her knuckles were white on the control yoke, and were he not a Jedi, he would have missed a soft “I already have too many regrets” to the Zabrak. When they were parallel, she eyed him with obvious distrust. “Want a lift to Anchorhead? I assume that’s where you’re going.”

He stared up at her, utterly torn. On the one hand, he could remain where he was and die of thirst and sunstroke. On the other, he could share a speeder with three potential Dark users, two of whom looked like they might well be related to his master’s killer.

Fine, yes, it would be an unpleasant walk back to Mos Espa, but quite doable. He didn’t really want to consider that option.

Hells. He’d committed to the regular visits with Shmi and Cliegg, and he was weeks behind. He levered himself upright, stiff and feeling bruised in several ways. “That would be appreciated.” He took a breath, and forced himself to make it sound natural. “Thank you.”

It took not quite a half-hour before the silence broke. Obi-Wan was doing his best to meditate – not with any trace of success – when the male next to him spoke up. “Okay, what the hells did we ever do to you?”

He twitched and looked over at the Zabrak. “What?”

The driver glanced back at him, frowning and leaking annoyance and regret into the Force. “If we’re such horrible company, we can let you off anywhere you want. We won’t twist your arm to make you ride with us, you know.”

Obi-Wan groaned inside and scrubbed his hands over his face. He was exhausted, and frustrated, and he hoped it would help wake him up some. It was futile, and he’d known for years it was futile, but he had to try. He was worn to the bone, emotionally and mentally. These three youngsters had gone out of their way to give him a lift, and it was hardly their fault that he’d had...bad experiences with someone who could pass as a relative. “I...No, it’s...” He sighed and gave his face another scrub. “Please ignore me. I’ve just...had a very bad...”

“Day?” the big Zabrak asked tentatively.

“Week?” the female said, dry and a bit scathing.

“Month?” The human made it sound like an actual guess, speculative and neutral.

It was all so _normal_ that he let out a bark of humorless laughter in spite of himself. “Something like that.”

Something seemed to ease between them after that. Perhaps it was simply that Obi-Wan was making an effort; he couldn’t tell. The rest of the trip passed quietly, broken only by quiet passes of a canteen of water around the group. He even managed a wooden smile for the Zabrak next to him.

The speeder came to a slow halt outside of Anchorhead, and at the driver’s words Obi-Wan dredged himself from the memories he’d withdrawn into. “What?”

“We’re here,” she repeated – had to be repeated, given the tone. She hesitated, then seemed to take strength from a careful touch to the shoulder by the Zabrak next to her. “Look, do you need some help?”

“Help?” He had to sound absurd, blankly parroting her, but damned if he could figure what this madwoman wanted.

She shrugged. “You don’t look so good. Will you be okay? Is there anyone we can com for you, or...I dunno, whatever.”

The girl next to her raised a brow. “Sister,” she murmured, clearly used to being the voice of reason.

The human glared at her. “I want to get there as much as you do, but c’mon, I can’t just let the idiot wander off to die in a gutter.”

He managed to muster up a bit of sarcasm. “I’m right here, you know.”

She flashed him a grin, surprisingly brilliant for all that it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Good to know.” It occurred to him that she must have made it a deliberate dig to see if he’d have any response, and he had to grant she had a point.

He sighed, but there was a hint of a grin to it as some of the tension he carried was exhaled as well. “I’m...grateful, but I really can look after myself, at least. I’ve been doing it for years now.” _His_ survival was never the problem, after all. “And...I’m sorry, for the way I’ve been acting. It’s...it’s entirely my own problem.”

The female Zabrak pulled a bit of a face. “Well, at least you admit it.”

The driver rolled her eyes at her sister. “Look, do you have somewhere to stay for the night, at least?”

The girl’s concern was touching, even if it was somewhat absurd. “If I can get there before sundown, yes.”

The way she looked at him sharpened. “You’re heading to one of the farms? Which one?”

The Force pinged at him, something setting his senses on high alert. “Why?”

“Geeze, you’re prickly.” She sighed, a sound between scathing and disparaging. “We’re heading out to the Lars farm. If you’re going that direction, we can drop you off closer to where you’re going.”

He ignored the mutter from the male Zabrak of “Or tell us where _we_ should be going, other than ‘west for maybe twenty minutes?’”

No. No, no, no. Not the last people he could claim were of any significance to him, the Force was ringing with so much potential he was astonished that it couldn’t be heard across the desert. Why the hells would three potential Dark users be going out to– “Why are you going to the Lars farm?”

She glared right back at him. “Not that it’s any business of yours. I have family there.”

A mental roar of protest echoed in his mind, and Obi-Wan discretely flexed his hand. The lightsaber hidden in his boot shifted, and he was ready to summon it to hand. “Now you’re lying,” he growled. “I know the Larses, and they do _not_ have any family from Dathomir.” He ignored the squawk of protest from the male Zabrak, the scathing glare from the female. He and the human exchanged cold looks, and he wanted to shake with the strength of the denial rocking through him. He’d asked Shmi extensively about family, in early – useless – attempts to see if Anakin might have gone to ground with relatives. She was an only child of only children, and she’d been unaware of any distant cousins she might have. Cliegg was from a farming family. For that matter, so was Beru Whitesun, Owen’s girlfriend. The Larses had been in slow decline for several generations. The Whitesuns had been on Tatooine so long, he’d be surprised if any in that family knew anything _but_ sand and hydrofarming.

“You can get out right the hells now,” the woman snapped.

Oh, of course he could, and then there’d be no way to catch up with them. Whatever they intended, he would once again be too late, caught back while others had to fight without him.

Not. Ever. Again.

His lightsaber was in hand and ignited in a blink, the blade humming in the face of the wide-eyed female Zabrak. “Whatever your purpose there is, I will not allow you to hurt them.” The male was too close for Obi-Wan to usefully face. The human was behind the control yoke, and capable of too much chaos. This one, though, was liable to be sneaky trouble, and the trio’s devotion to each other was clear. Best control the situation, and keep them complying for the safety of their sister.

The tableau held for a painful, breathless moment, then the human glared a bit to Obi-Wan’s right. “Savage, no,” she said, teeth gritted and words barely human.

The burly male resettled in his seat, seething and looking like he was still considering doing something quite stupid. The woman transferred the absolutely evil look back at Obi-Wan. “ _We_ aren’t the ones threatening anyone. We’re going there to find a relative, which is none of your damned business.” Her voice got harsher, colder. “And if you don’t get that glowstick out of my sister’s face, I will make you regret it for the rest of your life, _Jedi._ ” The title was snarled, bile and something Dark roiling underneath.

The male wasn’t helping matters, muttering under his breath. “However short _that_ is.”

“ _What_ relative?” Obi-Wan demanded.

“I won’t ask you again.”

* * *

Ani tried not to wince as the mad Jedi snorted and more than half-laughed. The sound was one step shy of hysterical as he gave a brusque shake of the head. “I don’t care! You can kill me, I don’t damn well care, but I won’t let you hurt them!”

She gritted her teeth, glancing over at Feral. Her sister was still, watching the lightsaber humming only a few centimeters from her throat. What were the odds that the truth would get them out of this, because this idiot hadn’t twitched when she’d accused him of being a Jedi, so either he was so insane he’d found a lightsaber and convinced himself of a ridiculous identity, or he really was and–

Well. _Jedi_. “...Shmi Skywalker,” Ani ground out, wondering at the tremble the lightsaber picked up. “Watto told me he’d sold her to Cliegg Lars.”

The madman got even more wild-eyed. “Shmi?”

“She’s my mother,” Ani bit off, wanting to spit the words in the bastard’s face.

The lightsaber settled, and his eyes hardened back to steel as he glared. “If you’re trying to pass yourself off as Anakin Skywalker, you’re an idiot. Anakin is male.”

Ani gaped at her old name dropping in the middle of the harsh words. How–? _Who_ –? She stared at the madman, trying to see something familiar past the straggly beard, the long, greasy hair. Cold blue eyes, sorrow lines harsh on a face that on wind-swept, too-bright Tatooine looked almost familiar. She glanced down at the lightsaber he held on her sister, and something inside howled. She wasn’t sure if it was a scream of protest, or a cry of impossible delight, or just shock.

She knew that lightsaber. She knew how it was held, knew that the whiteness to the knuckles was not a sign of weakness or the reason for that wavering.

It was impossible.

“...no.” It was a harsh croak that didn’t sound like it came from her. “No you can’t – Obi-Wan is dead!” She had felt it. She had never forgotten it, the feeling of the teaching bond to Obi-Wan snapping like a dry twig. She would never be able to forget it. She still woke up on rare, awful occasions to the memory, grasping for the Force that in her nightmares she could never find again.

This was impossible.

Yet she saw the familiar movements as he turned, could see and read the tension in his shoulders because he knew he should not turn his back on Feral but it was as if he could not stop himself from looking at her. It was the same searching kind of look he gave her, trying to find the ten year old boy she had been in the Nightsister she was now.

Impossible. He. Was. _Dead_.

Ani saw recognition in those eyes a moment before Feral’s arm wrapped around the Jedi’s throat from behind, her other hand sliding forward to grip and _twist_ at his right wrist. The lightsaber’s safety clicked on as it left the Jedi’s hand, clattering down to the footwells of the speeder. The illusion Feral had left of herself shimmered out of existence as she hauled the scruffy Jedi out of the speeder and to the desert sands.

“No! Feral wait!” Ani saw Savage snap up the fallen lightsaber as she hopped out and pulled her sister off the Jedi.

Feral brushed her off, staring at her. “You’re going to take _his_ side?” Her voice shook, indignant and shrill.

“No. Not– not exactly.” She caught Feral by the shoulders, staring into familiar eyes that she _knew_ , that weren’t complicated by impossibilities. “We’re sisters. We’re _family_. Please trust me?”

After a moment, Feral nodded slowly. She was still shaken, but calming a bit. “…All right. Who _is_ he?”

Ani looked over at the coughing Jedi sitting up, slow and stiff as he rubbed his throat. “He’s an idiot and a Jedi, but...” Her voice broke a little, and she could only manage a whisper. “But I think he’s my old Master.”

She didn’t need to look to know Feral was giving her an incredulous stare. “I thought your Master died?”

“I thought so too.” She went to crouch down next to the mostly recovered Jedi. It felt like a dream, something impossible, and a part of her was braced for it to turn into one of her nightmares. It felt...real, though, as she put a hand on his shoulder. The shields that she’d thought were natural thinned slightly, the polite courtesy that Jedi allowed each other so as to see their Force presence more clearly.

Oh gods. She remembered this, and it had never once been a part of her nightmares. “...Master? Obi-Wan?”

He looked at her as if _she_ were the ghost. “...Yes. I don’t...Anakin?”

Ani nodded, and somehow around the lump in her throat she managed to croak, “It’s me.”

Surely it couldn’t be real, because Obi-Wan was dead, and she would never be able to imagine Obi-Wan deserting all dignity and reserve. He reached out, pulling her close into a hug, and she had enough shocked time to see actual tears in his eyes.

* * *

Savage twitched as the Jedi clung to Ani, babbling away. The words that were audible ranged from oaths to the Force and countless apologies. He loosened his hold on the man’s lightsaber and looked over at Feral. “I know the Force works in mysterious ways, but what the hell?”

She gave that gesture that was part shrug, part shake of the head. “It might be connected to Ani’s dreams. That’s what brought us here, after all.” She crossed her arms, looking grumpy but far less likely to take on the mad human. “If the Jedi’s been getting the same kinds of warnings, I can see why he’d be stupidly overprotective.”

He had to give her that. Still. “I don’t like it,” he murmured. “How do we know we can trust him?”

Feral grinned at him, the sharp bright flash of teeth that meant trouble. “Don’t. Trust Ani. We’re here to watch her back, so what’s one more threat?”

He huffed a shadow of a laugh as Ani and her teacher finally calmed down a little. The idiot of course had to stick his foot right back in it. “ _Gods_ , Anakin, look at you! What happened to you?”

Ani shot the Jedi the ‘are you _kidding_ me?’ look before giving him a light punch to the shoulder. “ _Me_? You _died_! I– the connection, the training bond–” She shook her head. “It just...cut out. And then some–” She had to stop and look away, bad memories obviously hitting hard. Savage shifted from foot to foot, not sure what to make of the Jedi’s equally wounded expression. Guilt? He did not like the look of this. “Mother Vaala never could figure out how some s-slavers cut me off from the Force, if it was even them, but...” Ani tried to make her shrug casual, but it wasn’t fooling anyone.

All color drained out of the Jedi’s face, and Savage was pretty sure the man wasn’t screaming through sheer willpower alone. “Slavers,” the human murmured, reaching up to scrub both hands across his face again. “You thought I was dead, and _slavers_ – gods!”

Feral made a tiny noise, the ‘ah-hah, something’s amiss here’ growl. “Why did _that_ surprise you, Jedi, but not the fact that Ani lost the Force?”

A spike of frustration flickered in the Force, flavored with crushing shame, guilt, and more anger than Savage thought Jedi were supposed to feel. The Jedi took a deep breath, and it was clear he was making himself look Ani in the eyes. “It’s a test. The Trial of Solitude.”

Savage could not understand. It was Basic – there was no reason it wouldn’t be Basic, but what the hells? Ani had gone still, her expression hovering right between disbelief and crumpling in hurt.

“All– all padawans have an opportunity to prove they can fend for themselves, without using the Force as a crutch.”

“You– you take the Force away from them?” Feral yelped, scandalized and horrified all at once.

“But _why_?” Savage could not imagine any reason for that, any purpose to such a horrible thing – if it was even possible!

The Jedi sneered, feeling a bit surprised at his own scorn. “Tradition. A long, time-honored, asinine tradition to make sure that–”

Ani’s voice was small, as she spoke over him. “You mean that wasn’t just some, some horror story the initiates told? That’s a real thing?” Her eyes went wide, and she stumbled to her feet. “You– you fucking knew!” She shook her head in horrified denial, stepping back to be shoulder-to-shoulder with her sibs. Savage nudged up a little, though she didn’t lean back against him. “Why are you going to visit my mother?”

The Jedi refused to look away, and Savage had to grudgingly grant some respect for that. “To see if you’d been there.” His voice was soft, and he took the accusation right in the teeth. “I thought that if you were alive, you would eventually try to contact her.”

“To take me back?” Gods, he’d never heard his sister sound so _bitter_. Angry, yes. Ani’s temper could break, hot and fast, but bitter? “What happens to padawans who fail? No one ever mentioned that part of the ‘test.’”

The Jedi scowled ferociously as he struggled upright. “To hell with the damned test! It’s one of the most absurd, abusive things the Order does, taking younglings who feel like they have a place, a _home_ , and then tossing them to the curb and making them find their own damn way back! All this, after telling them that no matter what, the Force will always be with them, and then that gets taken away too! I sometimes wonder if the Order’s founders had a fucking sadistic streak that they liked indulging in, coming up with this crap!”

The way Ani pulled back and blinked, she’d never heard the like before. From what little she’d said to Savage, he didn’t think this was too characteristic of the urbane but devoted Jedi Master that she remembered so fondly. Or...well, at least with warmth. “You’re serious.” She didn’t believe it, but the way she wanted to was clear through the Force.

Kenobi looked entirely sincere, gravely serious as he met her eyes. “The only thing worse than having it happen to me was having it be done to you.”

“But–” Ani shook her head. “It’s not like you’ve never flouted the Council before. _Why?_ ”

The man looked old, weary, and every bit the scruffy madman he’d come across at his worst. “They surprised me. Weeks of arguing them to a standstill, then weeks of makework missions that I thought were punishment, rather than a diversion. I’d thought they’d backed down. I...don’t suppose you recall. I was called to a Council meeting the day it happened. I was politely informed that in the Council’s _infinite wisdom_ , they had decided enough exceptions had been made for you, and despite all evidence towards it being a fucking _horrible_ idea, your test was starting. Had already started the day before, as these things go, and I was to sit and be a good Master and _wait_.”

Bitterness and confusion saturated the Force. Savage glanced between his sisters and the Jedi. Feral didn’t look like she would soon forgive that treatment of Ani, who just seemed lost. The Jedi’s head remained bowed, hands clenched in long-burning anger. If anyone was to break this stalemate, it would probably have to be him.

“Sister.” Ani tore her gaze away from the Jedi and quirked an inquisitive brow at Savage. “We can leave him here, or take him with us, but...Shouldn’t we attend to the visions first?”

The Jedi looked between them, then seemed to finally do some basic math. “Visions? Anakin, what’s going on? Has something happened to Shmi?”

“I hope not,” she muttered. She took a long moment, eyes closed and face turned away before she breathed deep. Her shoulders went back, and the power and authority Mother Vaala worked so hard to convince her was good and _right_ to show went on display. From the way the Jedi blinked and pulled back a little, he’d never seen the gravitas Ani could pull off. His sister might not be official heir, but in every other way, she had more than achieved that role. “Savage, keep the lightsaber, and you’re up front with me. Feral, you take the back with M–” She had to stop and take another deep breath before she met the Jedi’s eyes. “Master Kenobi. Let’s get all the answers at once.”

Savage timed it. They weren’t five minutes out before Kenobi leaned forward just a little. “Why did you not come back? Here, at the very least. Your mother–”

Gods, if he had to concuss the idiot to make him stop putting his foot in his mouth, he would. Savage just couldn’t decide if it would help or hurt matters.

Ani didn’t look back as she cut off the soft question. “I left my enslaved mother to become a Jedi. I failed.” Her voice became even more clipped, probably to keep from tears. “My master died, and I wasn’t there to _do_ anything about it. If the Nightsisters hadn’t bought me and set me free, I might still be a slave right now. Even if I’d failed at everything else, Deep Mists helped me find the Force again. They’re my family. I haven’t used the name Skywalker in years. I’m not that person anymore. I at least won’t shame my mother more.”

Kenobi kept his voice quiet. “Anakin, she’s never once been ashamed of you.”

Ani’s dubious snort had more of a sniffle to it than Savage liked. “What do you know about mothers, Obi-Wan? Let alone mine.”

Kenobi got a _very_ strange expression, though Ani didn’t see the wry, painful twist of a smile. “You’d be surprised.”

“Uh huh. Shut up and let me drive.” Ani poured on the speed, clearly done with the conversation and just wanting answers, _now_.

* * *

The first thought Ani had when they arrived at what Obi-Wan said was the Lars farm was ‘why the hells would Mom _choose_ to stay here?’ It was on the edges of the Jundland Wastes, a small set of vaporators clustered around a small, below-ground-level compound.

Her second thought was ‘who the hell _are_ all these people?’ There were maybe three dozen humanoids standing around, muttering angrily and clutching various blasters and looking pissed off.

“Oh we have the _best_ timing,” Feral whispered as Ani brought the speeder to a halt. A burly human stumped over to them, the lined face and deep tan under a scruffy, unkempt beard pointing to a native of Tatooine.

“Son!” he called out, and Ani reflexively glanced behind her because that made no sense whatsoever.

Reality was even weirder, because Obi-Wan nodded to the man. “Cliegg. What’s going on?”

“Tuskens,” the man spat, while the three Dathomiri goggled. “Raid yesterday morning. There’s been a whole series of ‘em, and the bastards got Shmi.”

The Force thrummed, as if to say yes, this was it, the nightmares Ani had had were about _this_. It had happened.

Gods. Tuskens. Ani tried to calm herself, because on the good side, Tuskens were known to keep their captives alive for weeks.

On the terrifying side were the horrors reportedly inflicted on their captives in that time.

“Do you know where they took her?” Ani’s voice was harsh and tight.

The man – Cliegg? Cliegg _Lars_? The man who married her mother and was calling Obi-Wan _son_? How many Clieggs could there be in this area? – looked at her, then clearly dismissed her as anything other than another potential member of his posse. “We’ve got trackers. We’ll find them. We are bringing her _home_.” While Ani approved of the fierce protectiveness, the recklessness was a little over the top. Sure, there were a decent number of farmers gathered.

Tackling Tuskens in their own home was exceedingly dangerous. These farmers had to realize they weren’t all going to come home from this. Looking around, feeling the anger and determination simmering in the Force, Ani winced as she realized they didn’t _care_. This was bad. This was very bad.

Feral’s hand on her shoulder steadied her, though her sister’s words were confusing. “Then since we have our own speeder, perhaps we can try to take the flank and see if we can find anything of interest?”

Cliegg eyed her for a moment, then his gaze flicked over to Savage. “You Jedi might have luck that we don’t. You going with your people, son?”

Ani twitched at being called Jedi. Fine, Savage was carrying a lightsaber a little ostentatiously, but still. She twitched even more at ‘son.’

She didn’t know what to do with the fact that Obi-Wan didn’t hesitate to nod. “You’ll have a com, we’ll let you know if we find anything.”

# _Drive,_ # Feral directed through the Force, and Ani made herself start the speeder again. As soon as they were out of earshot, she half turned to look at Obi-Wan.

“What the _hells_?” she demanded, and Obi-Wan ducked his head.

“Cliegg Lars is my biological father?” he said, and Ani gaped. “I was raised by the Temple, so it never seemed to–”

“You’re _actually_ Ani’s brother?” Savage asked, incredulous and looking like he was a moment away from snickering.

“If we could get _back_ on the important topic, this can _wait,_ ” Feral snapped, glancing over at Ani. “Shmi’s your birthmother, right? There’s a blood connection?”

Oh. Oh thank gods she had her sibs to keep her grounded. Ani had no idea what she’d be doing if she had to deal with this mess all on her own. “Tracking the relationship?”

“Yes. You drive, I’ll cast. Hand.”

Ani leaned back in the seat, settling herself for what was going to be such a fun pursuit. Then she clenched her hand into a fist and shoved her elbow out, presenting the top of her forearm.

“That’s an arm, not a hand, sister.”

“It’s fucking Tatooine. What’re the odds it’ll dry up before we get there?” Ani revved the engine a little and glared at her sister. “Better to cast once and overcompensate than have to do this twice.”

* * *

Obi-Wan sat quietly, not sure what to make of any of the byplay. Feral – how the blazes had they gotten those names? – hesitated a moment, then sighed. It was clear that whatever they were discussing, Anakin had some notion of what she was doing.

She. Dear gods. He really hoped there’d be some sort of useful explanation soon.

The Force twinged as Feral began a quiet chant under her breath, hands moving in some peculiar, ritualistic fashion. Obi-Wan sat up a little, wondering what the hells was going on. Something was building up in the Force, directed but in a way he could not track. Green began to light up behind Feral’s eyes, trailing away in wisps of mist to match those from her hands. It felt like the power was precariously balanced, building up more and more until it almost toppled.

Then Feral reached out, palming a small vibroblade and making a light gash down the top of Anakin’s arm. Obi-Wan froze as the storm of power broke, cascading down into something trapped in those wisps of color that spiraled along Anakin’s arm, sweeping up the blood into a small, spinning ball of twisting light.

It burst forward, away from the speeder and shooting off like a small, dark green comet, and Anakin took off with a grim, determined look.

She stayed close on the tail of the– the Force ball, and after a few moments Obi-Wan glanced over at Savage in mute, astonished confusion. The Zabrak seemed unconcerned, as if this were perfectly normal.

The green glow remained in Feral’s eyes, her hands twisting in regular patterns from time to time. Obi-Wan finally turned to Savage and shrugged a little, not sure how, or even _what_ to ask. Savage grinned, if such a dark expression could be called that. “It’s taking us to the source of the blood – Ani’s mother,” he said quietly, and Obi-Wan tried very, very hard not to stare at the two in the front seats. “No need to flail around for tracks, or try to figure out if she’s at the first or dozenth stop or whatever. With some luck, we’ll get there, fetch her, and be back before the locals get into too much trouble.”

Obi-Wan sat back, quiet and more than a little uncertain of what to do.

It was closer to three hours than two when they finally chased the ball into a cul-de-sac, the ball shooting up the sheer cliff face. Anakin brought the speeder to a sharp halt, the repulsors whining at the sharp bank. They stared at the glowing ball disappearing from view, and Feral let her hands drop with a sigh.

“Straightest path,” she muttered, shaking her head in mild disgust. “No clue how far we have to go, so we can’t just go up and leave the speeder.”

“Doesn’t look like a clear path anywhere,” Savage said, frowning around. “We could climb up there–”

“And be without a speeder.” Obi-Wan earned himself sharp looks from them, which he tried to ignore. “While we might be able to lift the speeder up, there’s also no guarantee there’ll be an easy way to get it down. We’d be trapped up there with a speeder but nowhere to go, or end up down here on foot.” He shook his head and pulled a small set of binoculars from his belt. “Looks like a small mesa. If we take a heading here, swing wide and try for another one, even if we lose the trail again we’ll know where we’re going.”

Anakin was staring at him for a while, judging on who knew what merits.

Her nod, and the trust it implied, made the small knot of hope in his chest burn just a little brighter.

* * *

“There.” Savage pointed down and to the left, and in the shadows of the canyon, they could see an assortment of huts, crouched around carefully shielded fires with who knew how many figures wandering around amongst them.

“That hut.” Obi-Wan pointed, letting the Force guide him in targeting one of the smaller, cruder structures near the rear of the canyon. A pale Anakin nodded agreement, as she and the others crouched down to see what was what. “Only the one visible entrance into the area,” Obi-Wan said, nodding towards the opposite end of the camp. “And while I think the cliff is negotiable with the Force, there’s no way to be subtle at all.”

Anakin looked over at Savage. “If I can get us down there and back, can you–?”

He was already nodding. “Absolutely.” A moment of hesitation, then he turned and handed Obi-Wan his lightsaber. “I think you know better now.” He had a shy, hesitant smile, which Obi-Wan returned, even if it felt odd.

Anakin in the meantime had settled herself in lotus position, eyes closed in concentration as she murmured something to herself, soft and repetitive. Again the sensation built up of _something_ in the Force, though this felt like a far different thing. It spread as the sensation built, stretching to cover the four of them like the shadow from a bank of storm clouds. When the buildup cracked, the four of them shimmered, something draping and clinging to them. Obi-Wan stared, because while he could see the others perfectly fine, when he glanced away it was as if something were flickering in the corner of his vision.

Anakin opened eyes that showed the same smoky green side effects, and stood. “There. I can’t hold it for too long, but all we have to do is get down there, extend the cloak to Mom, and get out.” Without another word she stalked over to the edge of the canyon and stepped off.

Savage nodded firmly and leapt after her, while Obi-Wan and Feral were a trifle more careful about their descent. They hopped down the jagged rock face, listening to the Force to grab a hold here, slow the descent with a tiny foothold there. He hadn’t seen if Anakin had slowed her fall the same way, but Savage brute-forced his landing with a single Force push to keep himself from splatting on the ground.

The ease the three had with their abilities – including whatever over-powered notice-me-not Anakin was using to keep them hidden – sent a regular shiver up Obi-Wan’s spine. Even the youthful eagerness Savage showed couldn’t hide that he was more than competent with his skills. He might not be the powerhouse Anakin had always been, nor did he seem to have the training that Feral did, but Obi-Wan had seen too many beings end up bitter over power they did not have, rather than exploring their actual talents as far as possible.

More disturbing yet was that while none of what they had done reeked of the Dark side, neither was it fully of the Light.

Obi-Wan tried not to think about the fact that he was far more accepting of the weird mix than any at the Temple would approve of.

Anakin’s notice-me-not kept them hidden as the four snuck into the hut Obi-Wan had singled out, the Force lending silence to their feet and somehow keeping the alert Tuskens from spotting anything. That was _not_ how a notice-me-not worked, but Obi-Wan wasn’t about to complain. They ducked into the hut and let their eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Shmi was indeed there, shackled to a wall and unconscious.

Anakin froze for a moment, her eyes with that smoky green under-glow wide and shocked. Savage hissed as he moved to stand beside the door, back turned to the hut’s interior. Feral was silent as she pulled a weapon from her sleeve, and Obi-Wan pulled back a little as a lightsaber shoto snapped into being. The girl was fast and precise, cutting through Shmi’s restraints and disengaging the weapon even as Anakin caught her mother and eased her to the ground.

“Oh gods.” Anakin’s voice was soft, and she looked up at Feral. “She’s worse off than–”

Feral gave a sharp shake of the head, gently shoving Anakin aside as she knelt next to Shmi. She extended her hands over the woman, the Force rippling with power. “Ten minutes,” Feral finally said. “Five at the least. Healing shouldn’t be rushed.”

Anakin gave a jerky nod before lowering her head and muttering the way she had atop the canyon wall. Obi-Wan could feel the notice-me-not thickening around them, lending a deeper shimmer to the air. Since Anakin seemed to be dealing with her pent up worry in a useful way, he took up guard on the other side of the doorway from Savage. It was...interesting to see how the three were taking the situation. Shmi was not in the best shape, but he’d seen quite a few beings rebound from worse treatment. That this was his step-mother, _Anakin’s_ mother, made things far more awkward and painful than many of those situations, so he was trying to keep his emotional distance by tracking facts instead.

All three were furious, tightly coiled clusters of emotion. Anakin and Feral seemed to be channeling that into their Force use, which was...not reassuring, but far better than flirting with the Dark side and indulging in the potential for violence that throbbed through the hut like a heartbeat.

Yet for all their youth and exuberance, that fury _was_ coiled, leashed. Contained. They were directed towards their goal, rather than taking vengeance, and he’d run into plenty of beings with less self-control over the years.

After seven of the promised ten minutes, a flurry of blaster shots outside the hut jerked all but Feral upright. While Savage was blinking at the door in surprise, Obi-Wan was palming his lightsaber. “The posse,” he murmured, earning a frustrated growl and nod from Savage. Anakin’s chant continued uninterrupted, though there was now a sharp tone to the whispers.

Whatever it was she was doing might have let them scamper down a cliff face without Tuskens noticing, but it was not enough to counter three of them charging into the hut and nearly running over Obi-Wan and Savage. Obi-Wan Force pushed the one that almost trampled him against the wall, wincing at the loud _thwoomp_ that made. Savage had the one who rammed into him by the throat, hoisting the Raider up into the air.

The third backed out of the hut, yelling and firing at them. Savage threw his captive at that one, which kept them from being shot, but it meant that there was now no way their secrecy wasn’t compromised.

“Outside!” Anakin snapped, pushing past them with a green lightsaber lit and brandished. “We can’t be pinned down!”

The camp was boiling with activity, Tuskens firing upon the posse at the entrance to the canyon, some of them turning and heading towards the hut. Obi-Wan and Savage pushed out to bracket Anakin, Feral continuing her chants and manipulation of the Force inside.

Obi-Wan had to bite back an inarticulate sensation of something both very right, and jarringly wrong as he ignited his lightsaber. He had no idea where Anakin had picked hers up – she used to favor a blue one – but he could still see the stance they’d been working on years ago. It was sloppier than it used to be – or at least, it was not what _he_ had taught her. There was a precision to it even if the positioning was wrong–

Wrong, for a Jedi.

Savage reached under the longcoat he wore, and pulled something free. He brandished an oversized lightsaber hilt, but again, the stance was _very_ wrong. Obi-Wan froze as the Zabrak ignited his weapon, and for a moment he was not roasting under the Tatooine suns. For a moment, the sounds of combat around him were metallic, the sounds of battle droids as the Naboo starfighters raced to leave the hanger behind him.

Then he blinked once, and his mind recognized the dark green that had no hints of that horrible red. The Zabrak standing before him had an entirely different stance as he started to reflect blaster shots. He was taller and paler than Qui-Gon’s murderer, the tattoos different. Not him. Not then. Not Naboo.

A blaster bolt singeing past his shoulder brought Obi-Wan fully back to reality. It took him a few more moments to get in synch with Anakin, but after a bit of exposure, and with the Force, they were working together. Obi-Wan was more than a little surprised to find that it felt good: for the first time in years, it didn’t hurt to use the Force. It had never been a physical pain, but an emotional one. It was the persistent reminder than no matter what skills he had with the Force, it was never enough.

This time, it seemed to be sufficient. The three of them fought well together. Savage was almost entirely about use of his staff, deflecting shots with an accuracy that impressed Obi-Wan. Anakin was somewhat weak on her use of the lightsaber, but she compensated with deft use of the Force. Moving all sorts of objects around the immediate battlefield, shoving attacking Tuskens back – it was stunning and heartening to see her fight.

When green tendrils of power snaked across the ground from behind him, he wondered for a moment what Anakin was up to. A quick glance revealed instead Feral crouched in the hut’s doorway, shoto ignited to deflect the occasional bolt coming her way as she whispered strange incantations just on the edge of hearing. That mist tripped and tangled Sand People, occasionally curling around a prone but still firing being and snapping arms.

They fought together defensively, a steady bedrock in the midst of chaos. Despite the anger still burning through the young trio, none made any moves to do more than keep the Tuskens away.

The posse was far less controlled. The local farmers built their attack upon the Force-users’ foothold, pushing the Tuskens back until the Sand People broke. Obi-Wan could feel their cohesiveness disintegrate, the sense of _danger-danger-danger_ in the Force dissipating.

Anakin was the first to respond to the change, her free hand clenching into a fist. The green wisps of Force power around her and leaking from her eyes faded away, though he was certain he could still see some undershine of green as she glared around. Savage remained on guard, a presence warning any away from their small group.

The posse charged forward, firing indiscriminately. Obi-Wan tensed, watching the wild blasterfire. When one of the better aimed bolts would have taken a child in the back, Obi-Wan gestured, sending a piece of detritus to soak up the blast.

The farmers slowed, several of them swinging wide to target the Force-users. The shooter snarled at Obi-Wan, blaster up towards him. “Why are you taking _their_ side?”

Obi-Wan was calm, implacable as he stared the man down. It helped to know that Savage was still ready at his side – gods, that was strange to contemplate on so many levels! – while Anakin and Feral had the same tense sensation of protective preparation. He was hardly alone, and he could not recall when he’d last felt this way. “I’m not. Let them run.”

“They’re _Sand People_. They’ll be back! It might be years, but they always come back!”

With the posse’s momentum gone, the Tuskens were making a true escape. “As compared to what will happen if you kill them all? They fear you, for this – let them run, and let their fear rule them. Otherwise the fear of all the Sand People will compel them to remove the source. You won’t need to wait for these to return. When news hits the others that you wiped out an entire band, they will unite to eradicate you. Let these run, and carry a useful fear to the others.”

The twi’lek tried to glare him down, ignoring the sounds of Savage’s lightsaber shutting off as the young Nightbrother read the currents of the Force. The other two were still prepared for trouble, but the posse’s ire was starting to ebb.

For all that, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how long they would have been playing that stupid dominance game had Savage not walked past him, stopping near the twi’lek. Shmi was cradled in the Zabrak’s arms, and as much as that made Obi-Wan bristle, he could not deny the care with which she was held.

“Cliegg Lars. Where is he?”

The twi’lek tried to glare down the taller – younger – Nightbrother, then heaved a put upon sigh. He jerked his chin back towards the open mouth of the canyon. “One of the bastards got him in the leg. Probably no way he’ll be able to keep it.”

Two more lightsabers powered down. Feral took the lead, the young woman striding forward with a nod. Obi-Wan could see how she was hiding exhaustion under her hauteur. “I’m a healer. Ani, if you can get the less critically wounded?”

Anakin had moved to flank Savage. Her face was almost blank, her hand rising towards, yet not touching her mother’s shoulder. “Of course,” she said at last. She shot a quick look at the stoic Savage who didn’t seem to notice the weight in his arms. “Keep a good eye on her, please?” Anakin whispered.

“Of course.” The Force presence was steady, protective and determined. It matched his outer appearance to a degree Obi-Wan was not used to seeing. “Her husband, too.”

Anakin winced before nodding and turning to push through the posse.

* * *

Savage was quietly grateful that Ani’s mother was heavy enough he needed the Force to keep a solid grip. There was a heft to the living that the dead didn’t have, and it was nice to know he could do his part to help.

One of the local farmers drew back from a prone, swearing man who could only manage to turn his head to look at the arrival of Savage and Feral. He immediately slumped in relief. Tears still streamed down his face, but it looked to be less about pain now.

His right leg was an unbelievable mess, but the human didn’t seem to care. Feral was already making the unhappy healer faces as she knelt down on the man’s right, so Savage was careful as he set Ani’s mother down on the other side.

“Is she– ?”

“Fine,” Savage reassured him. “Unconscious, but healthy enough.”

“She’ll have nightmares,” Feral corrected. “I can heal, but I’m no miracle worker. She’s healthy _now_.”

Cliegg Lars’ expression verged on gentle as he fumbled out to grip Shmi’s hand. “She’s a survivor. She’s strong.”

Ani had always said so, and someone who could raise a kid like Ani would have to be. Savage gave the man a polite nod before standing. He wasn’t very versatile when it came to the Force – that was Feral’s job – but he was strong and seemed to have better training in regards to battle and cleanup than any of these folks. He kept his word, staying near Ani’s mother, but he was able to help lay out the wounded in a way that made sense and let Feral and Ani do their thing without much interference. Even the few farmers that had been smart enough to bring bacta seemed to appreciate it after a few resentful looks at an outsider coming in and dictating matters.

Savage didn’t like it, but he understood their stance. Truth be told, it was easier to focus on that than the other problem tensing through his shoulders.

Ani was avoiding the hell out of her mother. Fine, the woman had taken long enough to regain consciousness that Feral had done what she could for Lars’ leg. The human had lost a good bit of it, but at least his recovery time wouldn’t be long. Those two were clinging to each other, whispering softly even as a dazed Shmi Skywalker kept staring around.

Kenobi didn’t seem too eager to get involved in matters, either. Savage had to wonder if that was something Ani had picked up from him, or those two idiots were just well suited back in the day.

_We’re all going to have to have one hell of a talk later._

Ani disappeared for a little bit, only to nudge Savage mentally with the Force. He turned to find she’d brought their rented speeder in, and she stood near it, awkward and not quite meeting anyone’s eyes. She didn’t even meet his when he went up to her. “You should take the Larses back in this. I talked to the posse’s second in command and he says Lars came in on a one person speeder. I’ll take it back and meet you there.”

“What? Are you– !” He cut off as Ani glared at him, her expression still distressed, more uncertain than he’d ever seen her.

“I’ll meet you. Back at the farm.” Her voice didn’t break, but it wobbled as she turned and marched over to one of the speeders nearby. Savage let out an exasperated sigh, scrubbing along his horns in frustration. She couldn’t run from this forever, and he really thought his sister would know better than to even try.

His glare ended up landing on Kenobi, who was staring off at Ani’s retreat. Grief, so much grief and self-blame radiating even through muting shields.

That man was not right in the head. He probably wasn’t dangerous to them, but what Savage wouldn’t give for Mother Vaala to sit that Jedi down and talk some of the crazy out of him.

“Who...was that?”

Savage spun, feeling more than a little guilty that Ani’s mother had walked up behind him without him noticing. She felt enough like Ani that it was easy to consider her as clan, family, and thus not a threat.

“I...know her,” Ani’s mother muttered, then she blinked and looked him right in the eyes. “Who is that?”

Oh, spirits. He had no idea how Ani wanted to handle this – other than not at all – and he didn’t want to just blurt out things simply because this was Ani’s _mother_. “Uh.”

“Your child.”

It took heroic efforts to not facepalm. Savage glared at Feral instead. She was bracing herself against a speeder, looking like shit and as if she’d be swaying on her feet if the vehicle hadn’t been there. She glared right back. “We can play all sorts of verbal games, drive everyone up the wall until _she_ does something about this, or we can lance this problem right now.”

Savage winced. “I hate it when you have healing on the brain.”

“Complain to my backup who decided to run away instead of boosting me. We all do what we can,” Feral snapped. She looked over at a baffled Shmi Skywalker, who was shaking her head in confusion. “That is our sister, Ani. Your child.”

Ani’s mother pulled back a little, blinking like someone had slugged her between the eyes. She looked over at Savage, and he nodded. Shmi looked back at Feral, and for the first time seemed to register that the Dathomiri still had a few telltale signs of her biological sex. Savage wagered the human was drawing the obvious, if wrong, equivalence.

Ani’s mother swayed. Savage was there, catching her arm and making sure she stayed upright. The look she gave him was almost desperate. “Ani is – Ani’s all right?”

Savage was glad that Ani’s gender wasn’t going to be an issue. Shmi Skywalker was distressed about something though. Probably all the time Ani had been away. “Yes. She’s...having some difficulties right now, but she’s fine.”

“She’s scared.” Feral sounded tired as she moved closer. “She doesn’t want to disappoint you.”

The look Ani’s mother gave Feral was incredulous and reassuring beyond words. They were saved from more awkward conversation by several locals bearing Lars over to maneuver him into the speeder. It took a bit to cram them in – Ani’s mother and Lars in the back seat, while Feral squished into the side of the speeder with Kenobi between her and Savage.

It was...odd being the one driving. Ani usually did that, and this hardly seemed like a time to enjoy the opportunity. He was too busy to track how long it was before the silence was broken.

“Your friend,” Lars slurred around the healing products he’d gotten. “Is she– ?”

“Fine,” Feral snapped, tense and unhappy with Kenobi slotted in between them. He _had_ had a lightsaber on her earlier, so Ani’s vouching or not, she was not pleased. “She went on ahead.”

Lars grunted acknowledgement, perhaps relief.

A bit later, Ani’s mother spoke up. “She’s Ani.”

“What?” Lars sounded more coherent, if confused.

“I know. It’s Anakin. Obi-Wan, what is going on?”

“I wish I knew.” Kenobi twisted a little – about all he could maneuver without squishing someone – so he could see Ani’s mother. “I only encountered them on my way here.”

Oh that was a nice dodge. Savage had to admire how the man made it sound like they’d just crossed paths near the farm, not spent a week in a small passenger shuttle avoiding each other.

Feral snorted. She’d picked up on it too. Normally he wouldn’t even wonder if she would, but she’d expended a lot of effort and energy spellcasting. “Ani’s been having dreams lately.” Feral contributed. “About this, to be honest. Since she was going to investigate it, we came along with her.”

“You said she was your sister?”

“We’re from Dathomir.” Ani’s mother shook her head, not looking familiar with the name. “We – Ani, myself, and Savage here – were all adopted by the same clan.”

Kenobi’s voice was soft, and pain sang in the Force. “How did that happen?”

Savage deliberately misunderstood. “Ani’s good at fixing things. The pump at our village broke, and she came to fix it. While she was there, we got to know her, and become friends.” Before anyone in the speeder could fully grasp that, he glanced over at Ani’s mother. “Has she always been good at fixing things?”

Blast. He could feel how the only person buying it was Lars, who wasn’t in decent enough condition to do otherwise. Ani’s mother was kind, though, and she gave him a flicker of a smile. “Yes. Though I imagine you’ve heard all sorts of stories.”

“Not nearly as many as you’d think,” Feral snickered. “I’m always open to learn more.”

* * *

Ani pulled to a sharp stop at the farm, leaning forward to brace herself against the handlebars. This was...harder than she’d expected. For a little bit, she made herself just breathe. Eyes closed, pulling in the dry air crackling with sand and the tang of repulsors and metal. Spirits, she remembered this. She more than half expected to open her eyes and see Watto tossing something her way as motivation. Asshole always missed, but that wasn’t the point.

Mom would be standing nearby, watching as if her disapproval might matter, as if she could do something if Watto actually got within a parsec of Ani.

...Mom, sprawled out in that damned Tusken hut, bruised and pale. Ani shook her head, opening her eyes quickly to the glaring sunlight. Gods damn. She was the worst offspring ever.

Rather than stand around baking in the suns, Ani made a cursory attempt at the security system. She wasn’t too surprised that the second passcode she entered worked. She and Mom had used it as a fallback passcode back in the day.

Gods. Obi-Wan was right. Mom had been waiting.

Ani refused to cry as she maneuvered the speeder into the garage. You didn’t. You just...didn’t.

Spirits, she hated this. Yeah, sure, she'd grown up like that, but she’d hated it then, and she’d learned better with...

“Fuck.” Ani shook her head and glared around. She needed something to do, something to keep her hands busy, because otherwise her brain was going to take over, remind her how she _had_ a family. Other family, now, not Mom. Yeah, she knew it hadn’t been wrong, hadn’t been her abandoning her mother in some messy, careless way. Pragmatic, maybe, but Mom knew that better than Ani did, or probably ever would.

Didn’t make her feel any better, but it was at least something Ani could hold on to.

She wandered around the little moisture farm, trying not to poke too much, but hungry for details and distraction. Looked like there was at least one other person around besides Mom and Lars. Kid? No, probably not. Hired hand, maybe.

Ani stopped cold when she stumbled on a small work room, set aside for mechanical repair. There were parts of what looked to be vaporators junked around, but she couldn’t stop staring at the deactivated protocol droid sitting on a storage crate.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she whispered, wondering how much of her past life was going to come crawling out of the woodwork.

Spirits and little gods, a quick check of the serial number meant that the universe was not kidding her – or at least it was having a laugh at her expense. Mom still had Threepio, and he still didn’t have any exterior plating. There was a nice pile of scrap bits next to him for just that purprose, so it looked like Mom had been in the middle of upgrading him when...things had happened.

This, at least, she understood.

By the time she had most of the basics in place – some via the available tools, some by a bit of brute Force – she’d heard what sounded like the entire damn posse arriving. They stayed outside before dispersing, and then there was just the feel of several folks moving around the homestead.

The feel of Mom and Obi-Wan burned in Ani’s Force senses, and she hunched over her work a little more defensively than she quite needed to. In so many ways, this was too good to be real.

In so many others, she just wanted to break out of this nightmare and be back home.

Should she feel guilty for thinking that? She did feel guilty. Ani flipped Threepio’s power on, because she needed him to move to get better access to some areas and the silence was eating way too much at her mind.

The droid’s eyes flickered to life, and he looked up at her. “Oh! I do beg your pardon, Miss, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I–”

“I know, Threepio,” she muttered. “Please stand up?”

He did, head tilting a little quizzically. “Are you the new help? I was under the impression that it was difficult to afford the expense.”

“No, I–” The words tried to vanish from her throat. “Ani,” she finally managed, clutching an arm cover in white-knuckled hands. “I’m Ani.”

Threepio did the little head cant that substituted for a squinty look. Then he pulled back a bit. “Dear me! Master Ani?”

She shook her head, trying hard to not let herself fucking cry. “Ani, yes. Master, no.” Ani tried to grin. “Anyway, I was...I had to stop by and visit, and I’d say it’s about time I took care of this.” She bent close, grateful that Threepio raised his arm without her needing to ask. The angle meant that she could hide the emotion, pretend that she was in fact able to stop all the tears, and that the few drops of moisture landing on the duracrete floor were just sweat. “I don’t seem to have a good track record for keeping promises, but at least I can do this.”

“That is most kind of you, Mistre– ”

“ _No_ , Threepio.” Ani winced a little at the sharpness to her tone. “Please, no. ‘Miss,’ I’ll stand, but not– I am no being’s _master_ , whatever gender you want to apply.”

There was a bit of awkward silence as Ani got the arm plate attached, and she moved around the side. “Droids are not allowed to own themselves,” Threepio pointed out, with surprising delicacy to his tone.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment rather than torqueing a screw too far. When she felt like she could at least pretend to be calm, she opened her eyes and finished making the attachment. “Not legally. Doesn’t make it right, doesn’t mean we fleshy types should be prancing around demanding respect instead of earning it.”

There was a thoughtful silence, broken by the feel of Savage in the doorway. She pretended to ignore him, and he pretended he didn’t know she was well aware of his presence until he noisily cleared his throat.

“What?”

He also ignored the way she snapped. “She’s nice.”

Ani blinked. “What?”

“Your mother. She’s nice.”

Ani’s shoulders immediately hunched. She loved Savage, she genuinely did, but her brother _never_ played fair. He always fought dirty, as if to compensate for being one of the most insufferably nice beings every other way. “Oh shut up, what do you know?”

Savage’s shadow loomed over her, ticking points off on its fingers. “She’s got some great stories about you _pod-racing_ , which you might have forgotten to ever mention, somehow. Cooks good food, and she seems like one of those folks that need to feed people. She was– ”

“ _Enough_!” Ani had a tight grip on the ‘spanner, because if Savage didn’t shut the hells up, she was going to start throwing things. “Yes, brother, she’s amazing.” _And I left her, I left her and never came back never did anything to free her or keep my word it’s my fault she had to live like that for years more it’s my fault she got caught by the Sand People it’s my fault she was tortured it doesn’t matter I helped get her back I LEFT HER._ “But stop trying to make this okay. Stop trying to pretend things are just fine.” _It’s not it never will be just STOP_.

Savage was quiet, even in the Force, then he moved away from the door, letting the suns’ light in. It seemed even Threepio knew better than to say something, for which Ani was quietly grateful.

The solitude lasted less than two minutes before a shadow fell over Ani again.

“ _Ancestors,_ Savage!” she snapped, turning with the ‘spanner held out to throw, only to stop cold.

Mom looked back at her, expression almost unreadable. Ani rose up from the crouch, clinging to the ‘spanner because she had no idea what she was doing.

After way too long, which Ani would guess lasted less than a minute, Mom smiled. “Hi, Ani. Do you...still like hugs?”

Oh gods. If she had to speak, she was either going to scream or cry. So she just nodded, a short, jerky little motion.

Mom moved so fast she might have been using the Force. Ani just found herself enveloped in a hug, Mom clinging tight enough that it hurt a little.

That was fine. It meant she could tell what was real. There was the scent of her childhood, Mom and sand, broken by smoke and the hard tang of blood and suffering – not foreign, not even when Ani was a child, but rare. She clung back, giving in and letting herself cry because ancestors take it, this was her _mother_ and at least Shmi was alive.

She wasn’t the only one crying. Mom finally loosened her grip, just enough to pull back to look at her. “We’ve been so worried about you.” Before too much guilt could swamp Ani, Mom smiled at her. “You look like you’ve done well for yourself.”

Ani’s smile was weak, more surprise than anything. “Thanks. I– you– You got married?”

Oh gods. Nothing about freedom, no apologies, instead something stupid and useless and what the fuck was she doing?

It was weird, but reassuring that Mom just beamed at her instead. “Cliegg, yes.” Then her look went wry, in a way Ani remembered meant a little bit of gentle poking. “It means I’ve stepsons. I hope you don’t mind two more brothers.”

Ani had to sit down. “Two? If they’re both Jedi I might have to– I mean– two?”

“Just Obi-Wan.” Mom settled on the other end of the bench, making a small shooing gesture to Threepio. “Do you want to talk to him too, or not yet?”

That finally managed to get a laugh from her. “Might as well get this over with. You can stop lurking.”

Gods, she hadn’t even realized she’d been looking for his presence, and feeling Obi-Wan approach the work area had felt...not normal, but she wasn’t sure what it was.

He walked in, and there was that weird punch to the gut again. She could _see_ Obi-Wan, underneath the hideous beard and the lines to the face, but at the same time he looked old, beat up and hurting. It was easy to want to not be pissed with him, and yet...

He’d known. She’d lost the Force, and even if he hadn’t let the Jedi do that, he’d stood by the assholes that did that. From the sound of it, they did that to _everyone_ they brought in.

Spirits, just because they’d been tortured didn’t mean they should be doing it to anyone else.

“I’m sorry. If I’m interrupting – ”

“Did Savage send you, or Feral?”

Obi-Wan hesitated, then gave Ani a nod as he slipped his hands inside his sleeves. It was a Jedi thing, to preserve serenity and not look like fidgeting, and she remembered that tell. He did it when he was uncomfortable. “Savage. I don’t think he was trying to be subtle.”

“Probably not. He leaves that to Feral as much as possible.”

“Not both of you?” Mom sounded surprised, that tiny grin still on her face as she stared at Ani.

Ani knew the feeling, not sure how she felt about the desire to Force shut the door to make sure neither of them disappeared on her. “I usually leave the subtlety to Feral, too. Just because I can be subtle doesn’t mean I like it very much.”

To all the frozen Sith hells. She couldn’t keep dancing around this. Ani turned to face Mom more directly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t come back. I– should have. I– I’m sorry.” She shut her mouth before she blurted out anything else, because if she couldn’t own up to her mother that she’d failed, failed so horribly, then she damn well didn’t deserve to be talking to her, all of them pretending that everything was fine.

It was a relief that Mom didn’t speak up immediately. Instead of polite social lies, Mom looked her over, and Ani could feel the weight of judgement. It was a relief, because it was neutral judgement, not judgmental dismissal.

When Mom finally came to a decision, it was with that small, gentle smile Ani remembered. Mom reached out, tracing a light finger down the seam of Ani’s sleeve – the one she kept tearing on the smallest harvester, which had more than once had Ettro swearing that she’d make Ani repair the sleeve with droid parts so she could fix it herself in a way that didn’t look like drunken jawas had sewed it back together. “Watto didn’t sell me until he absolutely had to,” Mom said, voice soft. “Gambling, of course. Cliegg spent more than he should have, and sometimes I think it’s more than he could afford. Did you ever have the opportunity, Ani? Or that many credits?” Ani’s headshake was almost a shiver, and Mom cautiously rested her hand on Ani’s arm. “I would not have been happy if you went and sold yourself into actual or functional slavery for me. Have you been happy?”

She bowed her head, not sure if she should be relieved or shamed. “Yeah. I found a family.”

Gods, Mom was hugging her again, and Ani could feel the grieving relief from Mom and Obi-Wan. “I’m so glad.”

When the bawling and hugging was done, Mom gave her another long look. “I don’t want to be rude, Ani, but what happened?”

“Good question.” Ani straightened, struggling for a calm center. “It seems the Jedi believe in taking the Force from new padawans as a test.” Mom shot a fast, incredulous glare at Obi-Wan, who was doing that thing again. The head high, abashed expression that was admitting to something impossible and horrible. “And they don’t tell padawans that.”

“ _How_ –?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Some obscure Force ability. I know Yoda knows it, maybe Mace does as well, but I doubt there’s more than three others in the entire Order. I most certainly do not, nor would I learn it.” There was a definite curl of a sneer, which was not something she had thought Obi-Wan capable of. “There is no possible use for an ability like that other than the Trial of Solitude.”

Mom slumped back, putting an arm around Ani’s shoulders. “Gods, Obi-Wan. Why? What possible reason–”

“None that make any sense. Tradition.” He shook his head again, running a hand over his beard. “To prepare Jedi for anything, to remind us that even though the Force is with us, we should not let pride in that fact blind us to others. To bring humility by temporarily removing that which elevates us as an Order.” His eyes closed for a moment, and he looked _old_. He couldn’t be near Qui-Gon’s age, but Ani couldn’t stop a shiver at how much pain and grief had aged Obi-Wan.

What the hells had happened to him?

“Humility, but not humanity. The Jedi Order, as it exists, is far better than nothing, but some days...” He sighed and met Ani’s eyes. “I do wonder.”

She didn’t even try to stop her hands clenching into fists, and she held that look. “So I was sent on a delivery. To another planet, with a Jedi Knight who was _not_ my master. We separated. Then I got cut off from the Force. The first thing to go was the training bond with Obi-Wan, which I had been informed would only happen if he died, or both of us parted it, which would happen if I was knighted. So that meant my master had just died, and I couldn’t sense anything the way I was used to. I think I got back to the right shuttle dock, but maybe not. I asked the wrong person for directions. Slavers.” Mom’s arm tightened around Ani’s shoulders, and Obi-Wan’s eyes burned with grief and shame.

“I got lucky, I guess. The ship went to Dathomir, and I at least left enough of a trail in the Force that the head of one of the clans could feel the disturbance. The Deep Mists clan bought me. Freed me.” Her grin was a little brutal, wry and sharp without too much humor. “Adopted me. That means something a little different for Dathomir Nightsisters.” She made herself look away from Obi-Wan, meeting Mom’s eyes instead. “Mo – Vaala, the head of the clan, put it like this: adopting someone who had no ties to the land and the mists meant re-aligning a core part of me. I’d still be the same, but different. That also meant that whatever was blocking the Force wouldn’t have my Force presence to lock on to, so I’d have that back, too.”

From the stillness, the sense of astonishment from Obi-Wan even through his shields, he got it. Mom didn’t. “So that’s why I’m– The outward sign of the adoption– It made me female.”

Ani waited for the reaction, glad that Obi-Wan was taking it well, with the blasé acceptance of a Coreworlder. Mom just blinked. “Oh. All right.” Gods, she didn’t even ask. She just hugged Ani. “Your brother and sister already informed me you’re still my child, so unless you feel differently– ”

“No!” Ani clung tight for a long moment. She made herself let go, because otherwise she’d hide in the memories and the feeling of love and pride radiating from her mother. Instead, Ani looked at Obi-Wan. “So, what the hells happened to you?”

* * *

Obi-Wan couldn’t stop an amused snort. “I went looking for you. The Council fought me, but they were at least ashamed enough of their actions to grant me free reign and minimal but sufficient funds in searching for my ‘deceased’ padawan for a decade.” It was almost easy to grin, though the expression felt foreign. Despite the chaos of the day, he’d found Anakin. Or rather, he– _she’d_ found him. “I hope you can forgive me if I’m glad to have found you.”

It was so strange, how she could go from an Anakin he could almost recognize, with an open face and wry amusement, to a stranger with imposing hauteur and aloof confidence. “I’m not going back.”

He sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face. “I realize that, Anakin. I just– I’m glad I found you. I’m glad you’re _alive_. Happy, even. Dragging you back to the Jedi was never something I intended to do, unless you wanted to come back, in which case it wouldn’t be dragging, now would it. From what I can tell, you’ve made a good life for yourself. That’s all I ever wanted for you.”

Shmi was giving him that odd little smile that was more with the eyes than the mouth. Anakin just stared at him. Still regal, still distant. In that moment, she reminded him of the last time they had all been on Tatooine, and a very different kind of royalty.

Then she had a tiny quirk of a grin, as if she couldn’t quite help herself. “I’m a little surprised that the Council was that generous.”

“So am I.” Obi-Wan tried to grin back, but he didn’t quite have the energy for it. Most days he was very aware that in all likelihood, he had a handful of very stubborn councilors to thank for that, or at the very least Plo Koon.

But that was not a problem for today.

Shmi leaned forward, kind enough to bring the conversation back on track. “We were all surprised when Obi-Wan showed up, looking for you. Having you both related through us is a rather large coincidence.”

Anakin did a slow half-nod. “Maybe. Given how strong the Force is with both sides of the family, it’s possible– ” Anakin glanced from Shmi to Obi-Wan and back, “Well, I guess that might have had something to do with it.”

To Obi-Wan’s ears, the ending was an obvious shift of Anakin’s original intent, especially since he remembered Anakin not being a fan of the philosophy of predestination. Obi-Wan decided to let it be for the moment, staying on topic. “When it was clear you hadn’t been here, or any of the other places I thought to look, I tried broadening the search. Listening to the Force, investigating long cold trails, and generally getting into enough trouble that the Council believed I was doing more good than harm out here.”

Anakin’s look smoothed into cautious speculation. She nodded after a long moment, and he could not determine on what merits she was judging him.

Well. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t earned that.

* * *

It was earlier in the morning than she’d normally be up, but something about Tatooine had Ani up and about, restless and needing to burn off some energy. She and Savage had done some sparring until Mom had dragged him off to help Owen with...whatever it was Owen wanted help for that was the local farming.

It had been a very, very strange rotation. After the talk with Obi-Wan and Mom, Ani had met her step-father and step-brother. Owen was a stocky, quiet man only a few months younger than Ani. He seemed like a solid sort, and he had developed a quick kinship with Savage. Cliegg seemed like a good man, and the way Mom looked at him was...comforting. Sure, the man almost blanched when Mom started talking about building a replacement leg, but there was a closeness between them that Ani approved of.

Since Ani now had the courtyard to herself, and the suns weren’t up far enough to start searing the area, she was going through some katas with her lightsaber. The Force was starting to hum in an altogether different way, with a sense of weight and portent that she didn’t understand or like. It didn’t seem like it was targeted at her or her family, but for such a broad sense of unease something big was coming.

Katas helped calm her. It was soothing; getting lost in the patterns she’d learned long ago in the Temple, Obi-Wan walking her slowly and carefully through the positions.

As if she’d summoned him, Obi-Wan left the family quarters, silently walking over to drop into a meditative position over to the shadier side of the courtyard. They didn’t acknowledge each other, but there wasn’t quite the strained air that had lingered the day before.

Ani was on her third repetition of her favorite kata – the second that Obi-Wan was present for – when Obi-Wan winced. “No, not– ” He cut himself off, shaking his head and looking away, expression sheepish.

Ani stopped, wondering what the hells his problem was. “Not what?”

He blushed. “The, ah, your footing. It’s not quite–” He hesitated, but when she just waited to see where he was going, he kept talking. “You’re turning too far. Here, let me show you?”

It was so damn strange, Obi-Wan pulling his lightsaber and igniting it. He led her through the kata, his movements slow and precise as he kept his body turned so she could see how he moved. It was surreal how Tatooine’s feel and smells blurred with Ani’s memories of the Temple, all with the added quirk of how very different a being she had grown into.

She’d had most of the moves down correctly, but it was easy to see how little slips had crept in over a decade of having only herself to rely on for proper form. Kyray was good, but she knew actual sword fighting – the lightsaber was different, with all the weight being in the hilt and being all edge.

They stopped after going through the kata twice – once at half speed, once at a more normal pace. “Thanks.” Ani didn’t fight a wry grin. “It feels really weird, but I can tell the balance is better. Gonna suck relearning that, but thanks. You’re a good teacher.”

Obi-Wan’s peaceful expression went pensive and wistful. “Thank you.”

That made no sense. “What? Something wrong?”

“Hmm?” Obi-Wan snapped out of his moment of distraction.

“You don’t exactly look happy.”

Ani couldn’t remember if Obi-Wan had had such an empty smile before. He was really bad at it, though.

“Oh. No. It’s nothing. I’m just being ridiculous.”

Ani wavered for a moment, but the emptiness to his expression _bothered_ her. “Okay, feel free to tell me to butt out, but you really don’t look like you’re okay.”

Obi-Wan hesitated, but his expression smoothed into something a bit more natural, as if Ani calling him on his bantha-shit meant he didn’t have to keep up the facade anymore. “I’m...feeling a little bit at odds and ends, that’s all.” He let out a huff of laughter, the last of that emptiness evaporating into wryness. “Actually, I have no earthly idea what to do with myself.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath, pulling the Jedi poise back around him like his old cloak. “It’s not your problem. You don’t have to– ”

“I want to.” The words came out of her before she meant to, but spirits take it, that meant there was a reason. It meant her instincts were in the right place, even if it didn’t quite make sense to her. “Look, yeah, I’m still not happy about that whole damned _shit_ testing thing, but...You spent ten years looking for me. You– ” She hesitated for a moment, but it felt _right_. Not in the sense that the Force approved or whatever, but to her, inside. “You might not be Deep Mists, but you’re still clan, as far as I’m concerned.”

Obi-Wan studied her for a long moment, then he slumped with a sigh. “I have no idea if I can go back to being a Jedi.”

“Uh?” She stared, not even sure what he meant. “I thought you still were one? I mean, they didn’t kick you out or anything, right?” He probably would’ve mentioned that, right?

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I’ve been out walking the galaxy from one end to the other for ten years. Like I said, the Order mostly let me be as long as I didn’t cost them too many credits and on occasion went someplace they directed me to.” His smile was bitter, almost angry. “I think the Council might feel just the _tiniest_ bit guilty. But I haven’t– I haven’t really _been_ a Jedi– that is, I mean I _have_ , but...I’m not sure I can fit back into the Order.”

Ani stared. This was not anything she ever expected to hear. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon Jinn were, and had always been, Ani’s epitome of Jedi. The notion of Obi-Wan being, well, _not_ a Jedi–

Gods, that was wrong.

In the meantime, Obi-Wan had managed to compose himself. “I never thought beyond finding you and bringing you back.” The look he gave Ani was measuring, contemplative. “A foolish hope, grown more so as the years passed.” His smile was gentle. “I don’t think the Jedi path is for you, anymore.”

Ani managed to swallow down a lump in her throat, sounding normal if a bit sharp. “Yeah, thaaaaat’s probably a good thing. I think the Council would throw a royal shitfit if you tried to teach me at _my_ age.”

The fierce look he gave her was a surprise. “If you wanted to be my padawan still, I would take the role up in heartbeat and _fuck_ the Council.” Ani gaped openly at that, and Obi-Wan blushed. “Er. I mean.” He shook his head. “Not that you need to, of course. I mean, you have your life, your family – both of them, now, and I’d never force you to come back to the Order, most certainly not after what we did to you, and– ”

“Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan! Whoa there!” She put her hands on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, once again bewildered at the fact that she was now taller than he was. “Take a breath.” She grinned at him, working hard to project calm and reassurance.

“ _Gods._ ” Obi-Wan’s voice shook almost as much as his hands as he once again scrubbed his face. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re _human,_ ” she reminded him. It was beyond weird. These there the lessons he’d gone through with her, once. How no matter how skilled the Jedi, no matter how powerful in the Force, there was only so much they could all do.

Obi-Wan possibly picked up on that, giving Ani a weak smile as she squeezed his shoulder before letting go. They sat in companionable silence for a bit, Obi-Wan regaining his composure while Ani chewed over possibilities, how she felt about all sorts of thorny circumstances.

Hells with it. She still hadn’t entirely forgiven him, but all the Sith hells take that mess.

Obi-Wan was _alive_. That meant they had the opportunity to work through...all that.

“You know...I do kind of regret having my training cut short.”

Obi-Wan stopped beating himself up long enough to stare at her.

Ani grinned. “You’d have to come with us to Deep Mists, though. Let Mother Vaala poke at you, meet my clan, all that. Call it a...an exchange program, sorta.”

Obi-Wan was silent for a very, very long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, filled with emotion. “And are they all...are they all as scary as your siblings?”

Ani didn’t try to stop her smirk. “Oh, Mother Vaala’s _much_ scarier.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. They both pretended to not see it. “I’d be delighted.”

* * *

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and connected the com call. He’d sent advance warning, but for all that, it was still disconcerting to have the com display light up with Mace and Yoda on the other end.

“Knight Kenobi,” Mace said, brows raised in polite curiosity. “Tatooine?”

“Yes. I’m visiting my family again.” He couldn’t stop a small smile. “And in that vein, I’m pleased to inform you that I have found Anakin, and she is going to continue with training as my padawan.”

Mace spared a moment to blink, mouthing “she?” before a quick shake of the head. “I am very happy for you, Obi-Wan, but I’m afraid we have some important matters to discuss. And it’s most fortuitous that you’re out on Tatooine.”

Oh, he had such a bad feeling about this. Obi-Wan sat back, dropping into a more formal posture. “I doubt I shall be in this area for long.”

“Need to be, you should not,” Yoda declared, solemn and concerned. “Needed elsewhere, you are.”

“There have been several assassination attempts upon a Republic senator who has been a...dissenting voice amongst the political turmoil.” Mace looked grave, then a little disappointed at Obi-Wan’s blank stare. He didn’t bother to keep up with politics, beyond tracking if there were any significant wars or conflicts. While there did seem to be a lot more of said conflict than there used to be, he couldn’t recall any one particular hotspot. “Between your unique history with the Senator and their location – not to mention your current location – you’re unquestionably the most qualified Jedi for the job.”

Obi-Wan’s bad feeling intensified, the strange sense of portent that had been looming prickling further up his neck. “Where are you sending me, Master Windu?”

“Naboo.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dogmatix has some gorgeous art of Ani, also found [HERE](http://dogmatix.tumblr.com/post/140312806318/nightsisters-3-waking-up) on tumblr: 


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